


Its Simplest Definition

by thefrogg



Series: Abandoned Works from LJ [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrogg/pseuds/thefrogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants answers.  Castiel has them.  Possibly more answers than Dean is prepared to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Its Simplest Definition

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Angels were not supposed to fall for the ones they watched over - so now what was he supposed to do?  
> Spoilers: Through It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester  
> Kink: first times, confusion, consequences

Dean snuffled at the back of Sam's neck, sleep disturbed by the feel of watchful eyes. The too-bright stripes of sunlight bleeding around the cheap motel curtains dragged him further toward wakefulness, until the heavy weight of imposed security snapped.

"You should know by now that guns don't work on me," Castiel said mildly. "Neither do wards or salt lines."

Shielded by Dean's body, but awake and alert, Sam stilled, fingers gripping the knife beneath his pillow.

Blinking, Dean kept the gun trained on Castiel until he could twist around to face him, waiting for his eyes to adjust. "What, so ambushing me at random isn't enough now?" The safety clicked back on the gun, and it was set aside as Dean shifted off his brother beneath the comforter.

"I need to talk to you."

"And you can't just wait for--"

"And you needed the sleep," Castiel continued as if Dean hadn't spoken. "Badly enough for me to stand guard for a night."

Dean huffed a self-deprecating laugh. "Dude, we do not need a--" The rest of his complaint was cut off in a grunt as Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

"Before the two of you get into another catfight," Sam snarled, "a little privacy might be nice." He glared at Castiel over his shoulder, neck craned at an awkward angle.

"Sammy--"

"Understood," Castiel said, rising from his chair by the table. "I'll be waiting outside." He nodded to Dean. "Don't take too long."

Dean was slithering out from under the sheets, movements sharp and jerky with annoyance and anger, before the door had shut, salt lines undisturbed.

~~~

"So you know," Dean said without preamble, sliding onto the bench next to Castiel. The cheap, painted wood warmed his thighs.

Castiel tipped his head once in a bare nod.

"And?"

"Do you really think either of you are going to Hell because you love each other?"

Dean clenched his teeth, jaw muscles tightening painfully. His knuckles whitened against the dark green of the bench.

"Dean, you went to Hell because you love him enough to sacrifice yourself. I pulled you out myself."

A flash of real anger lit Dean's eyes then. "You pulled me out because you needed a babysitter for Sam."

Castiel sighed and looked up at the sky; a few puffy clouds scudded across a wintery blue that seemed a little out of season. "That's not...entirely true."

Dean shot to his feet; paint scraped off the bench, wedging itself beneath blunt nails, or dropping in long curls to the pavement. "I am sick and tired of half answers and non answers and lies of omission, Castiel. Sam and I have been busting our ass trying to keep Lilith from breaking whatever Seals you've sent us to protect, and we don't get jack for--"

"Dean."

Dean drew in an unsteady breath at the expression of mute pain in Castiel's eyes. "Can you even tell me?" he asked finally. "Why you pulled me out, if not for Sam? Why it's okay for," he swallowed hard, breath catching in the back of his throat, "the two of us, when the Bible says..." He broke off, turning to squint into the sun, one hand on the back of his neck. "Why us? And why the _Hell_ did you think it would be okay for you to sneak in and watch us last night?"

"That's a lot of questions."

"Castiel--"

"I can try."

Distant cars sped past the motel, the sounds muted by the length of the parking lot.

"Sit." The word was request, invitation and plea.

Reluctantly, Dean slid back onto the sun-warmed bench and hunched over, focusing on picking the wrinkled bits of green out from under his nails.

"I did not 'sneak in and watch you', as you so crudely put it." Castiel's tone didn't change at Dean's snort. "I only came in to watch over you as you slept, to protect you, and to give you the security to sleep yourselves out. You and Sam have been running yourselves ragged, and we cannot afford to lose either of you."

"That's not what Uriel--"

"Uriel is not..." Castiel pressed his lips together, searching for words. "He does not think much of you. Or of Sam. Fortunately for both of you, he is not your concern."

"And you are."

Castiel gave him a sidelong glance. "Technically, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but none of us is your concern. Not when it comes to killing you, that is."

Dean jerked back. "Excuse me for thinking I should be worried about someone whose _specialty_ is slaughtering entire towns thinking badly of me and Sam."

Castiel sighed and stared across the parking lot. "That's not--look. I told you before, none of us knows what the future holds. We can't. But we've done everything we can to see the possibilities. We may lose even with you and Sam fighting with us."

"And without us?"

"Without you--you, Dean Winchester--we don't stand a chance."


End file.
